


Long Term Developments

by paradiamond



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bond hide and seek, Chess Metaphors, Jim POV chapter 1, M/M, Mind Meld, Past Spock/Nyota Uhura, Post-Beyond, Spock POV chapter 2, Vulcan Bonds, Vulcan Kisses, let’s just say this spun wildly out of control, much like their thirst for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their most recent life threatening disaster, Jim and Spock find themselves faced with some down time. Jim’s idea to further develop the bond Spock had accidentally created between them four years before yields some interesting results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thrown head first back into K/S. Thank you Beyond for giving us this gift. This fic explores K/S coming out of the AOS canon timeline, with the added assumption that Spock unintentionally created a bond with Jim during their bridge fight. I'm just really interested in their relationship developing after they've spent three years getting super comfortable with each other, like we saw in Beyond. Enjoy (:

“Are you sure we don’t have to be somewhere right now?” Jim asks, trying and failing to sound casually interested instead of bored out of his mind and overly eager for the answer. 

“Affirmative,” Spock responds, tonelessly, but still managing to sound amused. Jim glances over at him and sees a familiar glint in his eyes, like he sees right through Jim's nonsense and wants him to know it. “Repairs are being seen to by the base, the crew is settled, funeral arrangements are completed, and personal disputes are being handled-”

“By the base,” Jim finishes for him, frowning around at the bizarre Yorktown skyline. “Right.” 

Jim had thought that the aftermath of the conflict with Krall, officially called the 'Edison incident' for Starfleet purposes, would be chaotic. In his experience, the days and weeks following any kind of major disaster for the Enterprise and whatever other affected area had always been busy, verging on hectic. Between trying to hold the Enterprise together with tape and the sheer force of will as they pulse powered themselves out of danger after the Nero incident and the outright fear and organizational power vacuum that had taken over after Khan had nearly destroyed everything, Jim wasn’t used to having down time after a disaster. But thanks to the crew, Yorktown had barely been affected by Krall’s horde, and had plenty of resources to allow Jim and the crew to kick back. Which was great. 

Jim taps his fingers against the clear railing, eying the ship bay from above. The ruin of the Enterprise sits there, newly retrieved from its mountain-view grave. “Maybe they could use some help anyway.” 

“I highly doubt it,” Spock responds, and then glances to his left. Jim follows his gaze by habit, and sees a man making a beeline towards them, recording device in hand. Spock leans closer by an inch. “Perhaps we should-”

“Yeah. Let’s book it,” Jim says, making for the elevator doors. He doesn’t have to look behind him to know that Spock is following. They make it just in time, Spock hitting the door close button just as the reporter is calling out Jim’s title. 

Jim leans against the wall in relief. “Do you ever feel bad about that? Or I mean, do you ever think we’re being unfair when we dodge them? I don’t.” 

Spock glances over at him. “No, I do not. We have both already completed our official inquiries and given interviews to the media. There is a time and a place for such things.” 

Jim nods. “Right, that’s what I thought.” 

“Do you often use me as a moral compass?” Spock asks, clearly teasing. 

Jim rolls his eyes. “If I did, you should take it as a compliment right? Means I trust your judgement. Besides, you’re like the majority of my impulse control,” he says as the elevator dings. 

Spock steps back slightly to indicate that Jim should exit first, which he does, before following him out. “In that case it is fortunate that we have both decided to stay on the same ship.” 

Grinning, Jim reaches out and give him a little shake by the elbow. “You have no idea.” 

“I believe I have some,” Spock says and pushes back against him, ever so slightly. “I was there to witness your choice of a distraction back on planet K9832V4.” 

“That’s what they’re calling it?” Jim makes a face as they cross the threshold to their building. He walks forward and into the scan chamber, verifying his identity. “Wow. Talk about creative.” 

“It is efficient,” Spock says, pausing to accept the security scan at the door before proceeding. 

Jim waits for him, flashing a smile at the cute Andorian desk clerk, who flicks their antenna at him in response. He looks back to find Spock now waiting for him, one eyebrow raised. Amusement and maybe some vague impatience radiates from him, but Jim isn’t sure if it’s his expression that tell him that or something else. He smiles at Spock. 

“Ready? Also do you think they would let us name the planet? A real name, I mean.” 

“I am,” Spock say, and walks to the elevators. “And they might, if you suggested something appropriate.” 

“No 'Enterprise Wipeout World'?” Jim asks brightly, though obviously he would never actually suggest something that had killed people. He says a lot of stupid stuff just to see the look on Spock’s face. 

“I would imagine not.” 

“What would you name it? Assuming that you had to, and with the rule that it can’t be called planet K9832V4,” Jim says, answering Spock’s first sassy reply before he can make it. 

Spock sends him a side eyed glance as the elevator takes them up to the fifth floor. “A ridiculous query.” 

Jim grins at him. “I knew you were going to say that.” 

“Then why ask?” Spock shoots back as the doors open, this time stepping out first. Jim shakes his head and follows. 

They walk to Jim’s assigned quarters, which are the same as Spock’s with some slight differences in cleaning and organization. Most of the crew had been quartered within this sector of the city, but with the Enterprise completely out of commission and the waves of Federation officials rushing in to help, space arrangements had become a bit chaotic. Jim is just happy that he and Spock are in the same building, especially since Bones had taken the first transport out to see his daughter back on Earth. Jim unlocks his door and waves Spock in. 

“Pick up where we left off?” Jim suggests, already heading towards the 3D chess board. The pieces were in the drawer under the bookshelf. Jim had knocked the board over the night before with some overly vigorous gesturing while he was telling a story, but after so many hours of staring at it he’s sure he still remembers where all the pieces go. 

“Very well,” Spock says, which Jim knows is his version of enthusiasm. 

He fishes the pieces out of the drawer while Spock moves their borrowed board to the table. It briefly occurs to Jim that they probably have to get a new set for themselves, what with the total destruction of their ship, but also that they might not. He’s not sure about the extent of the damage to either of their quarters, and what, if anything, had survived. 

“Did you have anything important on the ship? Anything that can’t be replaced?” Jim asks as he sets up the pieces. Black for Spock, white for Jim, just like the first time they played. 

Spock tilts his head to the side slightly. “I keep very few personal effects.” 

“Quality over quantity?” Jim asks, raising an eyebrow at him. The effect won’t be the same as when Spock does it, but it never is. “What’d you lose?” 

“Possibly a set of letters from my mother, but they were kept in a secure location,” Spock says, paying very close attention to how centered the pawn he had just placed is in the square. 

“I had my dad’s jacket, and his ‘fleet pin, which I know was stupid,” Jim says, shaking his head. “I should have kept it safer, or left it on Earth.” 

“Neither of us knew to expect that extent of damage to the ship.” 

“Expect the unexpected though. We should definitely know better by now.” Jim shrugs and places the last piece. He sits down and Spock does the same. “I’ll ask about the letters.” 

“Thank you,” Spock says, not looking at him anymore. “I have copies, but-”

“It’s not the same.” Jim nods, thinking about some of the other things he’d had squirreled away. He could replicate another jacket that looked the same, or another king chess piece the same make as the one from the first time Jim had beaten Spock at chess, but it wouldn’t be the same. “It’s also your turn.” 

The corner of Spock’s mouth turns up very slightly. “I am aware.” 

Jim nods to him and then stands up to get them drinks, unconcerned that he might miss something in the game. Over the years he and Spock had gone from playing two or three entire matches a night to playing one game over two or three weeks. It had been a slow process of adaptation and learning how the other plays combined with the fact that they often get distracted from the game. Sometimes they would go days without either of them making a move. 

When he gets back, Spock hasn’t moved at all. He is sitting forward in his chair, hands steepled under his chin. Jim sets his water next to his elbow and sits back down, popping the tab of his beer as he goes. 

“So, I’ve been thinking.” 

“A dangerous activity for us all,” Spock says, so quietly Jim has to strain to hear him. He smirks and continues, watching Spock consider his move. 

“You could tell I was alive right? When we were separated on the planet?” 

“Before that as well, when Doctor McCoy and I had been forcibly ejected from the ship while you remained on board.” 

Jim’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? That’s cool, I couldn’t tell at that point.” 

Spock nods, his eyes still on the board. “It is to be expected. As a Vulcan, I am used to navigating multiple mental bonds. You have had only four years of practice and possess no natural capacity to form or control them.” 

Jim nods back. “Right. Anyway, I was wondering if we should try harder.” 

“Clarify,” Spock says, reaching out to finally move his piece. Jim watches avidly, forgetting to respond as Spock moves his rook from the top level to the bottom, seemingly at random. Jim tilts his head and leans back to study the board, tapping his fingers on the arm rest. 

He glances up and catches Spock looking at him. “I have the sense that I’m in trouble, Mr. Spock, but I can’t tell why.”

Spock mirrors his posture, looking satisfied. “You are, and in time you will.” 

“Hm.” Jim continues to study the new board, wondering if he should rethink his strategy for this game. Over the past four years, his chess strategy had evolved from classic, to controlled chaos to combat Spock’s logical approach, to the point of constant change in response to Spock’s own ever-shifting strategy. He isn’t even sure he could beat a normal person now, since his entire concept of the game revolves around Spock and how he will react to every individual move, and he knows that Spock is the same boat. 

In this game, Jim had started out with the traditional in the hopes of convincing Spock that he was trying to lull into a false sense of security. The idea was that Spock would make nontraditional moves in response, wasting his turns and backing himself into a corner. It had seemed to be working, but now Jim isn’t so sure. He turns one of his taken pieces over and over in his hand, considering his options. 

“Jim?” 

“Yeah?” he responds, still staring. 

“You never clarified your statement.”

“Oh, right.” Jim sets the piece down and looks up to see Spock staring at him. “I think that we should try to develop the bond, to make it stronger.” 

Spock’s face changes slightly. To Jim, he looks curious. “To what end?” 

“Well think of it like this, how many times has the bond come in handy?” 

“Several.” 

“Right. Even a few days ago, I knew you were alive on that planet, and you knew I was alive. But how many times would a stronger bond have come in handy? What if we could have talked to each other, or found each other? I think this is a resource we’re not using to it’s full potential.” 

Spock looks amused now. He trails his fingers over some of his taken pieces. “Only you of all non-Vulcans would think of an accidental bond created in a violent physical altercation as a resource.” 

Jim shrugs. “It’s never hurt us. We’ve had it for years and it’s only gotten stronger.” 

Spock inclines his head. “Marginally so.” 

“Well why shouldn’t we make it stronger ourselves and use it?” 

Spock’s gaze turns speculative. “A logical conclusion.” 

Jim smiles and leans forward. “I’m the logical one now? Wow.” 

“Bonds are highly relevant in my culture and possess strong connotations. You have distance from the subject.” 

Jim snorts. “Distance my ass, you’re in my head. But seriously, why haven’t we done this? It makes sense right?” 

“The idea has merit,” Spock admits, his gaze wandering away. “But it is also intimate.” 

Jim looks up. “More intimate than me dying in front of you?” 

Spock’s expression tightens, and he looks back, meeting Jim’s eyes. “Perhaps not.” 

“Yeah.” 

“In the spirit of honesty, this is something I had considered in the past, but rejected on the basis that it might make Lieutenant Uhura uncomfortable given the state of our relationship.” 

It’s not a point Jim had considered, and for some reason it makes him want to flush. He knows that Spock knows that Jim had a crush on him, on both of them even, at one point. It would have been hard not to develop some feelings after everything they went through together. Between Vulcan, and then Earth, and then Earth again, Jim is surprised he doesn’t have this with more of the crew. 

Just because he was glad that Spock was the last thing he saw before he died, and the first thing he saw when he woke up, doesn’t mean he’s in love. Just because his little crush on Spock never really went away doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try this. These things happen all the time between coworkers who go through multiple catastrophic emergencies together, right? There’s no need to get weird about it now, not when things are going so well between them. He takes a drink of his beer instead. 

When he sets it back down, Spock is still staring. Jim shrugs. “I guess it can be that kind of intimate, in a romantic kind of way, right?” 

“I can be.” 

“But not necessarily.” 

“Correct.” 

“Well, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, and if the Uhura concern is no longer relevant since you guys broke up, then should we try?” Jim asks, feeling bold and shy and curious all at the same time. He wonders if Spock can feel some of what he’s feeling, if he could do it if he focused. 

Spock is silent for several minutes. With anyone else, Jim would be uncomfortable, even worried that he had offended them, but he knows better now. He sips his beer and considers the chessboard, wondering again what move he should make. 

“Yes, I believe we should,” Spock says, his tone warm and almost eager. 

Jim looks up and smiles. 

They decide to start the next day after thinking about the best way to proceed. The obvious first step is a mind meld. It’s the best way to evaluate their current bond and the most effective way of making it stronger. Jim had wanted to get started right away, to have Spock meld them right over the chessboard, but Spock wouldn’t do it. He insisted on proceeding with caution, saying that bonds can have extreme and long lasting results, which Jim is pretty sure is exactly what they want, but he lets it go. 

The next day, Spock shows up at his door having meditated on the issue and Jim presents him with a list of alternative ideas. 

“Ok so, bond hide-and-seek,” Jim says, looking up from his padd pointedly. 

“A game for children,” Spock comments blandly. “And not one I have ever played.” 

“Trust me, it’s not complicated,” Jim says, gesturing between them. “I’m sure we can figure it out. The challenge is to look using the bond instead of just looking.” 

“Very well.” 

Jim shoots him an amused glance and looks back down. “Ok so we also have working on developing mental communication, which sounds boring but I couldn’t think of a fun way to do it. Maybe if we do it in public and use it to do something funny.” He shrugs. “That’s probably a skill for later anyway.” 

“It is,” Spock says, and Jim swears he sees the hint of a smirk on his face. He grins back. 

“Ok, I don’t have a name for this, but it’s an activity where we trying to figure out what the other one is doing or experiencing through the bond. Sort of like hide and seek, except the goal is to figure out _what_ instead of where.” He looks back up. “I tried to come up with stuff that sounded like they would work on a different part of the bond.” 

Spock nods. “In general, the theory is sound.” 

“Will it work?”

“I am unsure,” Spock says, looking away, his gaze becoming speculative. “I have never heard of a Vulcan attempting to develop a bond in this way. It is unprecedented.” 

Jim leans against the table, arms crossed. “Well, I think we’re pretty used to unprecedented by now Mr. Spock.” 

Spock looks back at him and inclines his head. “Indeed.” 

“What about non-Vulcans with bonds? Do they have to work at it? That would make sense.” 

Spock tilts his head. “It would, but the only one I am familiar with is the bond shared by my parents. As far as I was ever aware, it was a normal spousal bond that developed through normal means.” 

Jim raises an eyebrow at him, and Spock inclines his head. 

“I guess you don’t want to ask your dad about it.” 

“It is unnecessary.” 

“Right.” Jim smirks and uncrosses his arms so he can brace them on the desk and lean back on them. “Ok so, what type of bond do we have, and does it make a difference?” 

Spock makes a face. “It would be imprecise, and in some ways misleading, to categorize it in the terms you are thinking of. We typically make a distinction between familial, spousal, and all other bonds for convenience, but this is in some ways cultural more than scientific. The difference is not as stark as the names imply, and bonds can change as they develop.” 

Jim nods, considering this. “That makes sense. Why would mental structures conform closely to cultural norms? Evolutionarily speaking, that wouldn’t happen.” 

“Correct.” 

“Ok.” Jim straightens up and claps his hands together. “Should we get this show on the road?” 

“A curious expression,” Spock says, but is apparently too excited to get started to pretend he doesn’t understand it. 

Jim shakes his head and follows him into the sitting area. He’s excited too, and maybe a little nervous. He hasn’t had a meld in years, not since Spock Prime showed him what he needed to know about Nero. Of course he knows that technically, Spock had melded with Jim over a year ago after an alien life force took over him mind in order to defeat it, but Jim has no actual memories of that entire experience, so he figures it doesn’t count. 

Part of Jim is anticipating the sensation of being thrown head first into a spiraling whirlpool of pain and confusion, which he realizes right away doesn’t make any sense. That Spock had just watched his planet die, of course slipping into his mind would feel like getting punched. His Spock is calmly waiting in front of the couch in Jim’s hotel room, ready to conduct what is essentially an experiment on the both of them.

“Couch or floor?” Jim asks, setting his padd down on the end table. Spock answers him by sitting on the couch, his legs angled inwards. Jim mirrors him, sitting so that Spock can easily reach his face and their knees are almost touching. “Ready?”

Spock doesn’t answer him, reaching for his face instead, fingers splayed. Jim forcibly relaxes himself and makes sure he doesn’t flinch when Spock touches his meld points. “My mind to your mind.” 

**My thoughts to your thoughts**

***

It’s not like the first time, but it is like being thrown into the void. Jim is struck immediately by the scale of what he’s experiencing. It makes sense that Spock’s mind is significantly calmer, but it also seems more controlled and therefore more powerful, more akin to the vastness of space than a natural disaster. 

They’re still two distinct entities, but Jim can sense where they’re connected. It feels like they’re moving around each other, never quite mixing, but all around. It’s confusing, and Jim wants to know more, to understand it. The connection, the bond, Jim supposes, is dynamic. He wants to reach out and touch it, but there’s nothing to touch. 

Amusement buzzes down the line, or what Jim imagines to be a line. It’s difficult to associate what he’s experiencing with the material reality of his experiences. He visualizes a computer circuit board communicating via electric impulses, then a beehive, like the ones from the farm. Neither of them seem to fit. 

**Neither will.** Spock’s voice comes to Jim from no particular direction, it simply is. 

Jim wants to talk back, so he focuses hard, trying to project words. _This is cool._

**I hear you, and I heard your desire to be heard.**

Hearing him again is a novelty, one that Jim wants to sit down and puzzle out, until he realizes that he’s already sitting down. Intrigued, he tries to focus on the physical, and finds that with a lot of concentration he can feel the couch, and Spock’s fingers on his face, but he can’t see. 

**Your eyes are closed,** Spock says, amused again, and then Jim is seeing a picture of himself, eyes closed, breathing softly. It takes Jim a second to realize that he’s seeing himself through Spock’s eyes, and a thrill runs through him. 

_This is so cool._

**You said that already, but it is fortunate you are taking to the sensation so quickly, and so well. Not many psi-null individuals enjoy the sensation.**

_I want to try something,_ Jim thinks, without really directing the thought anywhere, but he’s pretty sure Spock receives it anyway. Even as he’s thinking all these things, he’s wondering about memories, about Spock’s memories. He thinks about Spock’s time on Vulcan, his time at the Academy, his time with Bones on the planet they had just escaped from, getting flashes of each, unconnected images he’s pretty sure he can focus on and sharpen if he chose. Just as quickly, he’s shutting them down. 

_Holy shit, sorry! I probably shouldn’t have even started that._

**No, but I understand that this is a new experience for you.**

_Could I have seen any of your memories? I won’t, but is that part of it?_

**It can be, but I have the capacity to shut you out if I choose.**

_Good,_ Jim thinks, imagining all the personal information and private memories they have access to. _It’s probably a good thing we’re so close in rank too, this is probably one hell of a security risk. Can I block my memories from you?_

**With practice,** Spock reassures him. **For now, I will simply not look.**

_Great,_ Jim responds, already distracted again. Spock won’t look, but can Jim show? He focuses on the image of his house, back on the farm in Iowa, pulling up details and little pieces of memory. Focusing, he tries to pretend he’s there, standing in the kitchen. Then he tries to bring Spock with him. 

The image takes root and holds, looking like a hologram. Jim can tell that he’s not really there, of course, but it’s mostly because he knows for a fact he isn’t. Spock stands with his hands clasped behind his back, watching him from next to the replicator. 

Jim smiles, feeling bizarrely young and a little like he’d been caught at something. “So, uh, this is my house.” 

Spock nods, looking around curiously, and then the image melts away, replaced by another house. Jim glances around. He doesn’t recognize it at all, but Spock knows it, so Jim does as well. “Yours?” 

“Yes, my childhood home,” Spock says, and nods to the mantle piece. A single photograph sits there, an image of Sarek, Amanda, and Spock. None of them are smiling, but Jim smiles at it anyway. 

“I always knew you were a cute kid. Did I tap into this or did you show me this on purpose?” 

“In a way, both.” 

Jim nods and his mind wanders again. So they can access memories, but is it limited to reality? He imagines a dog, and a dog appears, standing in Spock’s family sitting room where he’s almost positive no dog had ever stood. Spock raises an eyebrow at it. 

“You are correct,” he says, and the dog changes to another, larger, furry creature with big teeth. A Selat, Jim thinks, though he can’t remember if he knew that already or if Spock’s mind is filling in the blanks. 

“I just wanted to see if I could bring something else in. To see if I could do it.” 

“Your motivation for a great deal of your behavior, I think,” Spock says, and Jim either sees or imagines him smirking. Either way, Jim grins back. 

“I could get lost in here,” he says, and realizes that the house is gone. They’re back to nothing, to space. Jim tries to look down and finds there’s nowhere to look. _Is this how you feel the most comfortable, without picturing anything?_

Jim can feel Spock considering the question, which is interesting. He usually just has to wait, to see it on his face. Now he can feel the process, even tap into the reasoning if he tries. Spock has a very methodical mind, with a very logical thought process. It’s easy to follow, and Jim knows the answer to his question before Spock fully internalizes it. 

**It is simply the default,** Spock thinks, and feels amused again, but also gratified. 

Jim turns to him, or imagines that he does. _What? I get how you think._

**I know. We are very compatible in terms of our mental processes and dimensions.**

_That’s how this bond get formed in the first place, right?_ Jim asks, remembering their fight from years ago, the one Jim had goaded Spock into. They’re past it, for the most part, but Jim still feels a little guilt even though he knows it was necessary. Spock answers his feelings with quiet understanding and his own apology for the beating Jim had received for it. By his account, they reached an understanding on that point long ago. 

**Correct.** Spock pictures it as well, but from his shaky perspective, clouded by strong emotion and the acute mental distress caused by so many abruptly broken bonds. His mother, his bondmate, his other relatives, all gone. It’s old pain, dull and mostly assuaged by the presences of new memories, the healing pressure of time passed, and formation and strengthening of new bonds, such as the one he shares with Jim. 

The thought that he helped Spock at all warms Jim and he reaches for the bond again without thinking, which is probably why he manages to actually find it this time. Surprise and excitement runs through him, quickly replaced by the drive to explore, to find out more about it. There’s no physical comparison, but Jim’s mind tries to make them anyway, conjuring up images and feelings of watching oil and water in the same container, of lying in bed with another person, limbs all twisted together, of different aspects of a song playing at the same time to make a complete sound. 

Spock is next to him, or something, responding to each of Jim’s ideas, showing him where the similarities and differences with each one start and end. For Spock, it is a complex network he lives with every day, something he was born into. There is no human equivalent, but he wants to explain it to Jim, confidant that he will rise to the challenge. 

**This bond was formed spontaneously, likely as a result of my emotional outburst and unconscious desire to replace what had been lost.**

_So you would have bonded with anyone you were strangling at the time?_ Jim asks, unsure of how to feel about that. It would be comically childish to be upset, or jealous of Spock’s other hypothetical fight-related bondmates. It’s not a commentary on him, that’s the point. 

**Yes and no. It is more accurate to say that my mind would have sought to bond with any compatible source, but it would only have worked with those especially suited to it, such as yours. As you can likely tell, we are highly compatible.**

_Now you’re just trying to make me feel better,_ Jim says, and tries to roll his eyes, then gets distracted wondering if it worked. Dimly, Jim wonders how long they’ve been sitting there. It could have been hours or minutes, he doubts he would be able to tell. But it’s irrelevant, so he lets the thought go in favor of more interesting pursuits.

 **I am not,** Spock continues, an emotional undercurrent passing through their shared space. It’s mostly pleasant, and Jim could probably pull it apart if he tried, but he leaves it alone. **You can tell by the way you are able to adapt so quickly to the meld, and by the way you follow my train of thought as you would your own.**

They’d had a version of this conversation before, when Spock first explained the existence of the bond to him years ago, visibly embarrassed and contrite. Then later as it developed, they discussed the logistical concerns, but this time they go in depth because Jim can actually see what he’s talking about. It should be weird, talking to Spock mentally when they could just as easily have had this conversation verbally, but it isn’t. 

_Why though?_ Jim asks, and then answers his own question. _There are only so many combinations of traits and mental wiring, right? Some people are going to be compatible like this just like they’re compatible other ways, like with sex._

Now he can tell that Spock is rolling his eyes, or is at least feeling that same way that Jim does when he does it. **Yes, and a multitude of other ways.**

 _What would that even be like?_ Jim wonders, trying to picture having sex like this. He can’t imagine moving, let alone moving that much. Not to mention the hand attached to his face. Logistically, that doesn’t sound very sexy. But what about physical sensation? Would it be amplified like a feedback loop? Could he feel what his partner was feeling? 

**More than likely, though as you correctly identified the logistics make the issue complicated,** Spock thinks, his thoughts tinged with only a little discomfort. It occurs to Jim that he’s not sure how sexual Vulcan’s are as a species, and then tries to stop thinking about it, hoping not to get sucked into a slideshow of Spock’s sex life by accident. He doesn’t really need to see Uhura like that, no matter how many times he’s joked about it. 

A bizarre mix bag of emotions comes at him from that one, amusement mixed with embarrassment, mixed with intrigue, and Jim throws up his hands, metaphorically speaking. _Sorry, I’m not looking,_ he says, even though he kind of does want to now. He buries the desire down with all the rest of his morbid and inappropriate curiosities, something he is used to doing by now. He hadn’t gone from, ‘what if I drove this car off a cliff?’ to ‘maybe I shouldn’t do that’, without practice. 

**Cliff?** Spock asks and is suddenly in a car with him, racing down a dusty road. He doesn’t look alarmed, probably because he already knows the entire memory just from thinking about it. Jim is his proper age, but at the same time, he’s also twelve. It’s crazy, he feel crazy. 

“Hey, we can’t die like this right?” Jim calls out without looking away from the fast approaching cliff face. 

Spock turns to face him, eyes slightly wider than usual. “What?” 

Jim grins and pushes his foot down harder, anticipating the drop off. He can always change his mind and stop them. Or drive off, fall, and then bring them straight to another place like nothing had happened. What happens if they do hit the ground? Can they feel pain? Can they feel anything? The closest he’d ever gotten to this was dreaming, and he’s pretty sure he’d never felt pain in a dream, not really. 

The front wheels leave the ground and Jim remembers something else. Another cliff, another drop off. Spock’s mother. In the next second, they’re at the first place he could think of, which is the central point of Yorktown, where the gravity is thin. He and Spock are floating in the air, suspended and alone. Jim grimaces apologetically in his direction. “Sorry, I didn’t think that through.” 

“You hardly had time to,” Spock says, tilting his head to the side. His bangs are floating up slightly, a result of the gravitational low density. “You are making connections very quickly, and then your mind executes them almost automatically. That was your connection, not mine.” 

“Huh,” Jim says, trying to do a backflip in the air with minimal success. “It’s hard to tell.” 

“Occasionally,” Spock says, watching him with some amusement. Jim points at him from his now upside down position. 

“You should try this, I didn’t get a chance to do this part when it was actually happening.” 

“It is not actually happening now.” 

“Semantics. This is like a simulator,” Jim says distractedly, then refocuses. “How come my imagination is so much stronger here? Or, with you I guess? Is this what it’s like for you all the time?” 

Spock, who Jim is now imagining upside down as well, tilts his head. “No. I believe that this is a side effect of the meld.” 

“You believe?” Jim asks, the illusion melting away as he stops focusing on it entirely. They’re back to just being inside each other’s mind, without picture or even definite sound. 

**Mind melds are not common. I have shared them on occasion, but not with frequency.**

Jim gets the impression that most of these melds came from a medical context, with only a few being of the personal variety. He tries to imagine who he might have melded with if he had the capacity, and comes up with a similar set. _That makes sense. So it’s an emergent properties kind of a thing? Would three minds be even more vivid?_

**Three minds would likely be unstable together, but it is possible that they would create a higher degree of power,** Spock comments, wondering to himself, and therefore to Jim, about the possibility. 

_What about medical applications? For healing?_ Jim asks, tapping into some of his knowledge of bonds. Broken bonds need healing or replacing, like Jim had replaced Spock’s. He feels interest, and then wonder, at the fact that he isn’t more disturbed by the concept, though he isn’t really sure who it’s coming from. Another thought occurs to him. _Since we have a bond, could I initiate a meld?_

**No,** Spock thinks automatically, but then he wonders. **Possibly, but I imagine only with myself. Perhaps I will ask my father about that.**

Discomfort, again, from both of them. The last time Jim saw Sarek it was because Sarek was watching him goad Spock into fighting. Not exactly a good impression to make. _Does he know about our bond?_

 **Yes,** Spock responds, and reaches for the bond he shares with his father, which reaches back. 

Jim gasps and reflexively tries to picture what is happening. Bizarrely, he imagines a family tree project in school, connected at the base. He sees trees with interconnected roots that move and change, and then they’re standing in a forest. 

Spock inclines his head. “I apologize. It was an automatic reflex.” 

Jim waves a hand, looking around at the scenery. The trees are black, but Jim can still see them perfectly well, even though the sky is dark as well. It looks like space, reflective and vast. It looks like Spock. 

“I get it. That was cool, actually. Do you think your dad could tell what we’re doing? Can he feel me in here?” 

“No, just as I cannot tell what he is doing.” 

Jim frowns. “So will _we_ not be able to? When we develop the bond, I mean.” 

Spock shakes his head very slightly. “It is a choice, based on the amount of shielding we chose to employ.” 

“Oh,” Jim says and focuses in on the bond. “Are we shielded?” 

“To a degree. The bond itself is not strong enough at the moment to reveal anything.” 

Jim cocks his head to the side. “Actually, it feels stronger to me, but that might just be the meld.” 

“No, you are correct,” Spock responds, though now he’s looking up at the trees. “Where is this?”

“I’m not sure,” Jim says, walking forward to stand closer to him, or whatever that means mentally. “I think I made it up.” 

“Fascinating, Spock says and then looks back at him, speculation in his eyes. “It reminds you of me?” 

Jim laughs, a little embarrassed. “I guess so. It’s certainly calm enough here, and the trees seem strong.” 

“Hm.” Spock is still looking at him, and Jim can’t discern what he’s feeling. Everything is present at once, all mixed up like he and Spock are with each other. He blinks and notices that the trees are gone, replaced by a desert of red and gold. 

It’s warm, with the sun shining down and permeating through every layer, reaching down to his bones. Jim, or Spock, feels warm like he usually can’t in human company. It seems to go on forever, just like the forest did, but there are no hidden corners here. Everything is open, laid out for him to see. 

“This is me?” Jim asks, even though he knows instinctively that it’s just a representation of how Spock perceives him, how he sees his mind. Jim has no strong feelings about deserts, but the emotional bleed over from Spock is telling. 

_Home,_ he thinks, and he want to reach out and touch it. _What else does he think about me?_ Jim wonders, and then he knows. 

Two hundred and forty five chess games, each more riveting than the last. He’s unexpected, Spock never thought to look for him. Constant challenge, ever since he stood up for his academic hearing. The kind of challenge that Spock has sought out ever since he was a child and determined to prove himself, just like Jim was. Support, acceptance, the kind he gets from so many of the crew, but at the same time it’s more. T’hy’la, perhaps, if he is very lucky. It’s an innate understanding that led Spock’s mind to reach out and take, and an ever increasing desire to know more, to be closer, that led him to agree to this exercise in the first place. 

Jim knows that some of these things should be private, but it’s honestly just so fascinating he doesn’t want to stop short, and Spock has the same kind of curious disposition. Together, they’re dangerous, building off of each other’s impulses and errant thoughts. While Jim is looking at himself through the lens of Spock’s mind, Spock is doing the same thing. 

Spock is the unmovable object to Jim’s unstoppable force, forcing balance where Jim would create chaos. Sending him careening in the right direction, not just flying into space. Pushing back against him, and helping him embrace his nature, being the mirror for him to look into, to reflect back on. Duality, and the fear that comes from the prospect of taking a step too far and ruining the most significant relationship of his life. He want to runs his hands through Spock’s hair sometimes to feel it between his fingers and mess it up. He wants Spock to put his hands on him, and is gratified when he does so in friendship, rare as it may be. Respect, and a genuine desire for Spock’s happiness. The kind that makes him leave Spock’s relationship with Uhura alone and be his friend despite his initial instincts, which told him to run in head first. 

They’re nowhere near the forest or the desert now, but Jim doesn’t know where they are. Maybe they’re just sitting across from each other in Jim’s hotel room, breathing the same air. Maybe they’re occupying the same space, overlapping entirely. It feels like it did initially, all the power and connectivity and now, unbound emotion. Spock feels for Jim, so many things, and he’s getting lost in it. 

Spock is getting lost too, lost in the pull of Jim’s mind. He reaches out, feeling the bond, pulling it stronger, drawing it close, making it known. The sudden shift in their link to each other startles Jim so badly that he jumps, breaking the meld, and suddenly he’s sitting across from Spock again, his fingers on his face. Jim inhales sharply and blinks, his eyes feeling a bit dry. He hadn’t noticed that he’d opened them. Across from him, Spock is silent, watching him. 

“I-” Jim says and then trails off. Spock simply stares back at him. 

Jim waves a hand, at a loss for words for once. It feels strange to be alone in his head again, though he realizes that he can still feel the bond itself, and stronger than it was before. He reaches back, into his own head. He imagines the bond, trying to remember how he found it before. Without thinking, really. He lets his eyes slip shut. The bond is there, he can feel it even if he can’t grab onto it, just like he can feel Spock sitting across from him. 

It occurs to Jim to play it off, to make a joke and get up. Spock would almost certainly let him. He’s not doing anything to stop him now. It barely seems like he’s breathing. They could go back to normal, their equilibrium uninterrupted. Jim opens his eyes and starts to lean away, then realizes that Spock’s fingers are still on his face. 

_Can he still hear me?_ Jim wonders, then thinks, _Fuck it._

He leans forward, seeing Spock’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch as he moves, and kisses him instead. 

As soon as their lips touch, Jim wants more. Kissing Spock is like an electric shock, sending shivers up his spine, and, he imagines, through Spock’s fingertips. He presses harder in response, running his tongue along the seam of Spock’s lips. Spock’s hand slides from Jim’s meld points to the back of his head, holding him in place before opening his mouth for him. It suits Jim just fine, giving him the leverage he wants to do it again, this time pressing further, his tongue sliding against Spock’s. It’s rougher than a human’s, which just gives him all sorts of ideas about how it might feel against other parts of him. 

Jim moans and shifts forward, all but climbing into Spock’s lap in an effort to get close to him, as close as he can with the new knowledge that they’ll never be as close as they just were. No one will. He wants it again, knows that he’ll likely have it soon. He keeps pressing and pushing Spock down onto his back, bracketing him in with his arms and sliding a leg in between his thighs. There’s a hitch in Spock’s breath, and then he’s grabbing onto Jim’s waist and pushing up so he can arrange Jim’s legs on either side of his waist before pulling him back down. He leaves his hand on Jim’s hips, holding him in place, and then grinds upwards, pressing them together. Jim groans and rolls his hips down, and suddenly Spock is sitting up and taking Jim with him. It’s a stark reminder of just how much stronger he is than Jim. 

Jim gasps, surprised enough at their sudden change of position to break away. He pulls back enough to get a good look at Spock, whose eyes are blown so dark they might as well be black, before getting pulled forward again. Jim angles his head for another kiss but is instead met forehead to forehead. Blinking rapidly, heart beating faster than could be considered normal, Jim relaxes into it. They breathe together, calming down in stages. Usually, he would regret the loss of urgency. As it is he feels boneless, like he’s melting into Spock’s mind again, mixing with him. Spock wraps an arm around Jim’s waist and pulls him closer, as close as he can get. 

“This was a good idea,” Jim says, quietly, and slides his hands along Spock’s body, over his chest, along the back of his neck. Spock’s eyes half close, looking more relaxed than Jim has ever seen him. 

Spock’s fingers brush against his face lightly, just over the points where he touched him before. “Yes, Jim.” 

Jim shivers and then has a flash of inspiration. Smiling, he reaches out on an instinct he’s pretty sure isn’t his, and takes Spock’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Spock’s cheeks takes on a greenish tinge. 

“Captain.” 

Jim’s eyebrows fly up. “Seriously?”

“Jim,” Spock says, their faces still very close together. “That is an intimate gesture.” 

Jim raises his eyebrows and squeezes his fingers tighter. “Figures that would be the one I picked up via brain osmosis, or whatever. What does this communicate?”

Spock’s gaze drops down to their connected hands. After a long moment, he says, “Eroticism.” 

“So, sex,” Jim responds coyly, pulling away so he can draw his fingers all the way up the length of Spock’s before moving back down again, keeping them linked together. Spock shivers and reaches out to take Jim’s other hand. Jim grins. “What about other gestures?” 

“Such as?” Spock asks, his voice maybe a little breathy. Jim hums, considering how to ask what he wants to ask without actually doing it. 

“Well if you kiss with your hands, and this is essentially making out, how do you do this?” He asks and then leans forward to press a kiss to Spock’s lips, short and without the implicit expectation of more, unlike the majority of kisses in Jim’s life. Spock kisses him back, and it feel like he’s smiling. 

They pull away, Spock letting go of Jim’s hands as they go. Jim feels the loss of the contact, wondering if he should have asked Spock what sex positions Vulcan’s like best instead, but then Spock is touching him again, moving his fingers into what must be a very specific arrangement. He balls Jim’s fingers into a fist, thumb over his ring and pinky fingers, but leaves his first two extended. It looks like a peace sign until Spock closes the gap between them. Then he mirrors the gesture himself. 

“Like this, t’hy’la,” Spock says, so quietly Jim almost misses it, and presses their fingers together. Jim doesn't really feel anything from the contact, except that he really does. They’re still curled together, Jim straddling Spock’s lap. He can feel the bond in the back of his head, alive and definitely stronger than it was before. He smiles, and suddenly knows his next move for their chess game. He’s going to wipe the floor with him. 

Jim slides his fingers along Spock’s, maintaining the gesture but sure that he’s making it dirty somehow. “Are we still going to do my list? Bond hide and seek?” 

Spock gives him a look, and Jim is suddenly sure that he knows what he’s thinking. “I believe that we would benefit from the practice, yes.” 

“It’ll be fun too.” He looks up and meets Spock’s eyes. “I should have ideas like this more often.” 

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitches and he leans forward to give Jim another kiss, human style. Jim leans forward when he leans back, prolonging the contact. Spock breaks away but puts his arms around Jim’s back, tugging him as close as possible. 

“I find that I am confident you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond hide and seek! By request :)

The starbase Yorktown is a modern marvel of engineering, architecture, and primarily human audacity. It is what allows Spock to sit on a small bench under the shade of a palm tree native to Earth when they are in the middle of otherwise unoccupied space. Normally, he would choose to sit in the sun, but since the structure is artificially constructed in the middle of dead space and rigorously climate controlled, there is little point in giving up the cover the tree provides. The light coming down from above is simply that, light. The temperature comes another system entirely. 

Spock focuses on these things so that he will not focus on the bond he shares with Jim. To do so might compromise the experiment.

It amuses Spock that Jim is still insistent on following his list, despite the revelations of the past few days and Spock’s reassurance that the bond would grow naturally now. Of course, it is worth noting that the exercise is something Spock would never think to suggest. It simply would never have occurred to him. Jim was right in his assessment during their meld of how they make each other better. Of how Spock helps guide Jim, and Jim helps inspire Spock. They have been assisting each other in this way for years now.

A flash in the corner of his eye makes Spock turn, and he sees Jim standing about thirty feet away. Spock watches with interest as Jim starts to scan the crowd and then freezes, obviously chastising himself for doing what he had said no less than eight times that they were not to do, which is to look for each other through traditional means. Of course, they are both free to do so, and Spock would have once expected Jim to cheat simply on the basis of his first impression of him. But he had long learned that Jim does not make a habit of cheating, he is simply willing to do so to make a point or achieve an outcome he deems important enough to justify violating the rules. Jim won’t cheat at his own game, not when it would be counterproductive to the exercise to do so.

The exercise itself, bond hide-and-seek as Jim insists on calling it, is an interesting one, and Spock finds himself anticipating his turn.

After two minutes, Jim wanders away, out of Spock’s sight. Nonplussed, Spock settles in to wait. In truth, he’s not entirely sure this is even going to work. It’s not Jim’s fault, though he will likely take it that way if he is unsuccessful. It is simply a fact that Jim is not naturally talented in navigating mental bonds and most likely lacks the necessary practice. Still, Jim will search for Spock until he finds him, no matter how long it takes, and Spock finds that he is willing to wait.

“Hey, Spock.”

The voice, jarringly familiar, comes from behind him. Spock turns, and Jim smirks at him, smug but also genuinely pleased. His emotions shine through the bond, pure and unfiltered, unsuppressed. The access to Jim’s mind has been fascinating. The insight it provides both into Jim’s thought process and motivations, as well as Spock’s own self, has been invaluable. Of course he knew they were compatible, that much was obvious from the beginning, but actually experiencing the matured bond is another experience altogether. 

“Got you,” Jim says, still smiling. His blue eyes shine with pleasure, standing out even more than usual. 

Spock inclines his head, letting his pleasant emotional state come through the bond as well. “Yes, you have.”

Grinning now, Jim walks around to the other side and sits beside him on the narrow bench. “This is awesome. I mean, it was hard, but cool.”

“I am pleased you enjoyed the experience,” Spock says, slowly. He finds that he is still processing his own reaction to Jim’s success.

Jim nods his head, his exuberance making him more even active than usual. “Yeah, it was hard to get a handle on at first. The more I focused, the less...aware I was, I think.” He waves a hand, gesturing wildly. “But then it was like reading a map, or following a tracking signal.”

Spock suppresses a smile at Jim’s continual insistence on attributing material realities to mental processes. It makes sense, given the lack of first hand experience, and it is fascinating to see the correlative effort first hand in their melds. Jim’s latest mental comparison was of the bond itself and string, strong but tenuous. It’s not entirely accurate, but not metaphorically inaccurate either. Spock finds his efforts endearing. Jim is still looking at him, his focus intent. A lazy smile spreads across his face, and he leans in. 

“Would you have a very Vulcan freak out if I kissed you in public right now?” Jim asks, pitching his voice lower than usual. Spock’s eyebrows shoot up and he glances away, towards the crowd. 

It is unlikely that they will be observed, but he is not sure how relevant that is. They have already informed Starfleet command of the change in their relationship status as per Spock’s own request. All that remains is proprietary for propriety's sake. Unfortunately, he finds himself unsure about they should handle their public relationship. It is not something they had discussed. When he looks back, he sees Jim holding out his hand with the first two fingers extended and his eyebrows raised. His expression is one of amusement, and open affection.

Spock mirrors the gesture and meets his touch in a light kiss, desiring to return the sentiment. Jim leans forward, prolonging their contact. “I wasn’t going to lay one on you in the middle of a public courtyard, Spock, I know you’re uptight about that sort of thing.”

“Am I?” Spock asks, and then on impulse, leans forward and presses his lips to Jim’s in a brief, but undeniably human kiss. He pulls back before Jim can respond, settling back into his own space to watch Jim watch him with wide eyes. “I believe it is my turn.”

“What? Oh, right,” Jim says, and quickly gets to his feet, distracted once again. “Give me a head start, ok?”

Spock inclines his head, still residually pleased at having surprised him, since the phenomenon generally occurs the other way around, such as the first time Jim beat him at chess. Jim casts one last glance in his direction and then jogs into the crowd to disappear from sight, apparently too eager to walk. Spock is eager as well, but he waits for Jim to put some distance between them, intentionally shielding himself from their bond so as not to cheat.

It is not entirely pleasant, cutting himself off from the bond in this way, even if the disconnect is not in it’s entirety. Spock relaxes himself, readjusting to the sensation. He had spent most of the previous four years shielded from the bond, and now that he has access, he is not pleased to let it go even for a short time. 

Developing his bond with Jim over the past few days has been a gratifying experience. Though the existence of the bond has always been helpful to him and his mental health as all bonds are, this particular one has always stood out in his mind, likely because it is the only one he shares with a human. Although, Spock suspects that the particular human involved has something to do with it as well.

Spock was pleasantly surprised when Jim broached the subject, though in retrospect he supposes that he shouldn’t have been. For a person who frequently behaves erratically, Jim has a remarkably logical thought process. The difference between them exists more in the conclusions drawn than the underlying reasoning in their thinking. Jim is fully capable of thinking systematically, of exploring multiple scenarios and weighing the costs and benefits of a choice. It just so happens that his conceptual frame allows for significantly more deviation from the norm than Spock’s does.

Once Jim had directly handled the bond, he had wanted more. Even now he seeks to master it, to explore with Spock. It makes sense that he compares the sharing of their minds to the vastness of space, since he regards the two similarly and takes the same enthusiastic approach. With Jim, everything is a challenge. Including and especially the game he had sent them both on today.

Spock stands and gradually begins unshielding as he walks in the direction Jim had gone. He will have deviated from the path by now, but it’s a logical a move as any. Besides, Spock isn’t tracking him, he is finding him.

The bond hums with life. Emotions come through first in a way they don’t over Vulcan bonds. Jim had never been taught to restrain his emotions in any way. Anticipation, excitement, some boredom, and burning curiosity shine through right away. All of it occurs within their minds, however, directionless as the communication that takes place in a meld. It simply is. Spock will have to focus on other sensations to find him.

For Spock, there is no mental radar or map. The bond is not a string that ties them together or a signal in a circuit board. Kaiidth. It is the essence of Vulcan life. Spock can no more describe the feeling of it to another than he can the experience of intuition, or falling in love, though he had tried when Jim asked. Spock reaches a corner and knows which way to turn, which way will lead him to Jim, because he does. He has the sense that Jim is somewhere in front of him, and higher, as though he had entered a building or taken one of Yorktown’s many transports to another ring, and trusts that instinct. They are separate but they are one. Of course Spock knows where to go, even if he doesn’t exactly know where Jim is in that moment, in whatever specific place he’s hiding.

For the most part, the inhabitants of Yorktown stay out of his way, going about their own affairs in peace. Spock does get some long looks, mainly from other Starfleet personnel who know that he’s from the Enterprise, but the media frenzy had died down for the most part over the last few days. This allows Spock to both look for Jim with few interruptions and to enjoy Yorktown itself, which is interesting. He gets on one of the high speed shuttles on impulse, letting it carry him over two of the primary city rings before disembarking again. Jim is closer now, Spock can sense it.

The sensation of the bond he shares with Jim is different from other bonds. Most notably, it is not as similar as he had originally thought to the bond he previously shared with his mother. It is possible that there is no real reason it would be, though the data pool is so small in that area Spock has been wondering if he and Jim should request to be studied. Much could be learned from their situation. Of course, Spock reflects as he pauses in a shaded area, he isn’t sure how Jim would respond to such a suggestion. With his simultaneous and fascinating dual disposition for analytic curiosity mixed with his latent romanticism, Jim can be difficult to predict.

Spock turns away, ready to continue on with his mission, and freezes. The connection had changed. It is ever changing, ever shifting just like all bonds, but to the degree that Spock is monitoring it, he notices right away. Spock hadn’t moved, so it had to have been Jim, strengthening and weakening the connection. Intrigued, Spock stays still, and after a few minutes feels it shift again. He feels his eyebrows fly up. It’s impressive, and even unprecedented, that Jim should learn to affect the connection that quickly. They had worked on basic shielding the night before, but even so, it shows a degree of psychic aptitude that Spock hadn’t thought Jim possessed.

Amused, Spock continues walking and mentally reaches out, trying to communicate. Knowing that Jim might not receive the touch, and might still not be able to respond, Spock keeps it simple. The sentiment of being impressed. He pauses again, drawing a few curious looks, to wait for a response.

The connection flares, the bond lighting up with sudden energy that Spock takes as his reply. He suppresses the urge to smile outright, amused and endeared and frustrated. The emotions are coming from both himself and Jim, mixing and difficult to separate. The emotional response from Jim comes through a second later, predictable and strong. Mischief. Spock should have known.

He shakes his head slightly and continues on his way, dodging around passersby and occasionally stopping to reorient himself. Jim insists on making a nuisance of himself, changing the level of his shielding so as to further confuse Spock on his way.

_No handicaps for Vulcans._

Surprised again by his aptitude, Spock responds. **I am not sure you need one either.**

Delight. Pride. More mischief. _Maybe I don’t._

 **Perhaps we should try it your way the next round, and see how successful you are then.** Spock projects back, still walking through the streets, only absently following him now. The connection pulls taught and then slack, breathing with Jim’s efforts. Spock follows his progress with interest.

 _Perhaps not._ Jim replies, using Spock’s own words out of humor. _Also, I just ran into Uhura. I didn’t say anything but I think she still somehow knew what we were doing._

Spock acknowledges the statement but chooses not to dwell on it. The last time he had spoken to her, they had spent three hours dissecting their relationship and ultimately deciding to end it. Of course, it’s an unthinking reply from Jim, and one that could potentially reveal his location if Spock were in a cheating mood. The thought seems to occur to Jim as well because Spock feels a sudden wave of regret and the briefest moment of panic before calm sets in again and the connection changes.

Abruptly, Spock freezes, realization striking him.

Jim isn’t changing the nature of the connection. No human three days into experimenting with a Vulcan bond has that capacity, even if Jim is a genius. He is simply _moving around_. It is suddenly glaringly obvious. Spock feels many things when he realizes this. He chooses to channel those things into productive energy.

He redoubles his efforts, tracking now. The pull of Jim’s mind is clear, especially now that he knows that Jim is not sending him on false trails, Spock simply has to be faster than he can move. Someone calls out to him, raising a hand in his direction, but Spock pretends not to see it. They are not Jim, and if it is truly important then they will chase him. 

Worry comes through the bond now. Anticipation. Excitement. 

He follows Jim’s mind, shielding himself so that Jim can’t use what he had learned earlier that day against him and preemptively change his path. He’s running blind now. Spock speeds up. Then he stops, years of competing with Jim’s ever adapting chess strategy informing his decision. 

Their paths will intersect, but only if Jim doesn’t make any sudden moves, such as getting onto a transport. Cut off from Spock’s mind, it’s exactly the sort of thing he would do. Though it goes directly against his baser instincts to chase, Spock makes himself wait, to get a sense for where Jim is going. He may have the advantage now, but Jim is still a formidable opponent. Forgetting that is what lost Spock his first few chess matches with him.

Suddenly, Jim’s path deviates wildly, and Spock tilts his head, estimating the sudden distance that had grown between them. Too great for Jim to have traveled in such short a time, unless he jumped off a building, which he hadn’t. There one second, somewhere else the next. The only feeling Spock had to compare it to was the sense of a bond being temporarily disrupted by a transporter beam.

It happens again. Amusement buzzes down the bond, but not in response to Spock’s shielded thoughts. Jim did something he thinks is clever. Spock considers the possibilities and concludes that he likely stepped into one of the transporter booths Spock had seen in the main squares of the starbase. Which drastically limits the places Jim could be to the immediate area surrounding those booths. Judging from the distance between them now, Spock also knows exactly where he has to go to cut Jim off before he gets to the next one.

 **I am coming.** Spock projects his thoughts over to Jim as he moves towards the massive elevator that will take him to the adjacent ring. It is fast, but Spock still feels anticipation over whether Jim will stick to his current path or deviate in response to Spock’s taunt. The elevator reaches the ring before Jim has transported again, but he has moved. As soon as he steps out, Jim starts moving very quickly again. Spock has to restrain himself from running, but still walks quickly enough to put himself on a collision course with Jim’s path, only to find that he’s standing alone.

Spock turns, intrigued. Their hotel to directly behind him. It makes sense for Jim to head there out of instinct, but he is not there. Confused, Spock looks around, still feeling Jim’s presence, and then up. There. The buildings on their ring are also connected at the roof by curved walkways. Spock raises an eyebrow in that general direction, and hopes Jim can somehow sense it. He moves again, into the building, and Spock follows. 

The identity verification scanner is a nuisance, and the elevator seems to take an age to run. All the while Spock is aware that Jim might run off again. Spock should have taken the stairs. He might have caught Jim on his way down. But Jim doesn’t run this time.

When he reaches their hallway, the strength from the bond has dimmed. Spock pauses, but determines that Jim is still near, but is now shielding as much as he can, which isn’t all that much. Spock wonders why he hadn’t tried to shield himself before, and realizes that he probably couldn’t do it while he was moving. Which means he’s likely not moving now. Spock looks between their two doors, and chooses his own.

The door slides open and Spock steps in, knowing immediately that he was right but unable to actually see him. Slowly, he steps into the space and unshields himself. He reaches out, past Jim’s flimsy shields. **There’s no point in remaining hidden any longer, not when it’s so much more fulfilling to be connected, and so pointless to try to hide from me.**

Silence. Spock takes another step into the space, and Jim jumps onto his back. Spock whirls, realizing that he must have been hiding behind the closet door or crouched near the window, but uncaring as to the specifics. He makes a grab for Jim, who has dropped his concentration on the bond and therefore the entirety of his shields as well, throwing the bond back into full relief. But Jim evades him, slipping off his back and dropping low, out of Spock’s reach. As strong as Vulcan’s are in comparison to humans, they are often not faster, presumably due to the density of their bodies. Spock has certainly never been faster than Jim in hand-to-hand. 

Abruptly, Jim turns, presumably to dart away, but Spock manages to get his hand wrapped around Jim’s arm and use his own momentum against him, pushing him back into the desk and knocking over the chessboard. Pieces from their weeks long game clatter to the floor, scattering everywhere. 

Jim’s eyebrows fly up and he looks over his shoulder at it before turning back, grinning. His face is red from exertion, and his eyes are bright even in the dim light. He wraps his hands around Spock’s waist and tugs him closer. “Technically, you knocked it over this time.”

Spock shakes his head slightly and presses further into Jim’s space. The bond hums with energy between them, achingly familiar in Spock’s mind and enticingly alien in Jim’s. 

Jim’s eyes shine with amusement and pride, the same feelings coming through the bond. It’s almost overwhelming to Spock, to both see and feel Jim’s emotions when he’s used to only receiving one of the two at a time. Jim traces circles along Spock’s sides, never keeping still. “Just trying to make it more challenging.” 

“Of course, you always make everything more challenging than it necessarily has to be,” Spock comments wryly, but doesn’t try to pull away. 

Jim leans in. “Admit it, I had you going.” 

“You did.” 

“I knew you would look for a Vulcan solution first, gave me more time. I walked right by you, you know.”

Spock hadn’t, and he feels surprised by the revelation. “I feel compelled to point out that it was not a competition.”

Jim shakes his head, still grinning. “No, but I still won.”

Spock flexes his grip on Jim’s arms. “Did you?”

Jim shrugs and inches closer. “This feels like winning to me.”

“For me as well,” Spock agrees mildly, allowing him to come as close as he desires. 

“You aren’t going to call me a cheater?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Is it necessary?”

“There wasn’t a rule against moving. Or misleading.”

“It was implied.”

Jim grins and Spock doesn’t have to look into his mind to know what he’s thinking about. Jim leans forward and presses his forehead against Spock’s. “You like the bond.” 

Before, Spock would have thought that this is a non sequitur, but years of experience tell him otherwise. Jim must have seen something Spock wasn’t aware he was showing. It was alarming until he realized that he has the same level of insight. “It is gratifying to me, and to you.” 

“Hell yeah it is. I didn’t realize it would be like this. We should have done this years ago.” 

“On the contrary, I feel as though waiting until we developed a more-” 

Jim leans forward and kisses him, cutting off his words. The connection stays strong however, and Spock knows his sentiment is understood. It was important for them to become closer before delving further into the bond. It is perfectly acceptable, even sometimes preferred, for Vulcan couples with contrasting but complementary personalities to bond and form strong partnerships, but those bonds are formed during childhood. He and Jim formed their bond spontaneously, jarringly, and to try to develop it further at that point would have been an error. 

_Maybe,_ Jim’s consciousness echoes in Spock’s mind, taking up more space than another’s ever had. He’s still kissing Spock, his hand now caught up in Spock’s shirt, holding him in a vice. Multitasking. Spock can sense his pleasure at both the physical contact and his own developing abilities. _But you could probably also say that building it up after another big scare isn’t exactly logical either._

 **Shared trauma often leads to the enforcing of bonds, both Vulcan and human,** Spock projects back, hooking his arms around Jim’s body to lift him up and onto the desk. Surprise comes through, as well as annoyance at being manhandled, quickly turning to amusement and pleasure. Jim’s emotions are so changeable, so light and quick, but multilayered. Spock finds his emotional state much more one track. Right now, he feels desire. 

Jim smiles into the kiss, and Spock decides that it’s an odd but ultimately pleasant feeling. _I’ve always been a fan of jumping in feet first._

Spock lets his amusement be his response to that particularly obvious statement, busy sliding his hands up the sides of Jim’s shirt and then leaning away to pull it up and over his head, desirous of skin to skin contact between them. Jim catches on quickly as he always does, and removes Spock’s, pulling him in again once it’s out of the way, chest to chest, Spock standing between Jim’s legs. Jim wraps them around Spock’s waist and holds him there, grinning. 

“Got you.” 

“For the second time today,” Spock replies quietly. He’s tired of talking, desiring mental contact instead, again, always. The bond provides it, standing open and allowing the free flow of feeling, both physical and emotional. Jim is feeling possessive of him, desiring to keep him close, to keep Spock for himself. It is a nearly Vulcan sentiment, and Spock feels the echo inside himself. 

He leans forward and kisses Jim on the neck, letting his lips trail from his jaw bone to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Jim tips his head back without consideration, automatically exposing himself to Spock, like he belongs there. It is intensely gratifying. 

Spock opens his mouth, breathing harshly against Jim’s skin, wondering if it’s acceptable to bite. It is. Jim’s approval rings through him, and his arms tighten around Spock’s waist, holding him still as Jim moves against him, losing himself in the feeling. Spock rolls his hips against the pressure, encouraging him and he presses his teeth into Jim’s sensitive neck. 

Jim moans, an inherently human sound, unrestrained and absolutely engaging. Spock makes a wild grab for one of Jim’s hands, linking their fingers together. Warmth runs up his hand, and their empathetic connection intensifies. Spock leans in further, trying to erase any space between them, like they’d had during the meld. The bond functions in a similar way, but it is still not complete. Still, the contact makes every sensation heightened, and shared, creating a feedback loop. It is building, and ultimately, cresting. 

Jim arches against him, his body going taut. Spock gasps out loud, feeling Jim’s orgasm in his mind, and tightens his grip on Jim’s hand before letting go. He leans forward to press his forehead against Jim’s, feeling the reverberating pleasure. It is intensely intimate. 

“Wow I-” Jim shakes his head, dislodging Spock, who leans away. His legs slips from Spock’s waist, dangling towards the floor. “That was great.” 

Spock does not attempt to keep his expression controlled. “I concur.” 

“Can we sit?” Jim breathes, his eyes glassy blue. “On the couch, I mean.” 

“Of course,” Spock says, and realizes that his voice has the same breathy quality. He pauses to collect himself, and Jim gets to his feet, trailing his fingers along Spock’s absently as he passes, making him shiver. Spock watches Jim stop next to the laundry shoot and strip off his pants and underwear, his legs still slightly shaky, before proceeding to the couch naked. 

“This is ok right?” Jim asks as he drop down onto it, managing to looks both alluring and childlike. “Like, at this point?” 

Amused, Spock follows Jim to the couch and sits. “Yes.” 

“Good,” Jim replies, sounding tired. 

Spock feels that Jim’s instinct is to move closer, to touch as humans generally desire, compensating for the lack of mental contact with physical closeness. It is logical, but Spock can feel him restrain himself. If he were human, Spock might have rolled his eyes, finding Jim ridiculous for trying to deny his needs. Spock reaches over and pulls Jim close, skin to skin again. Jim relaxes into his embrace, mind still flooded with endorphins. Then he looks up, eyes wide. 

“Did you come?” 

Spock raises an eyebrow at him. “I did not.” 

Jim sits bolt upright, already reaching for Spock’s pants. “Shit, sorry-”

“Do not be,” Spock intercepts him, catching Jim’s hands in his own and linking his fingers together. “I experienced your orgasm. For me, the mental connection was more important, more stimulating.” 

Jim blinks, visibly confused. “I- really?” Hh asks, broadcasting doubt, concern. Spock lets go of one of his hands to run his fingers through his hair, on impulse. It is soft, just as he suspected.

“Yes, really.” 

Jim tilts his head to the side slightly. “Is it always going to be that way? Or do you have sex?” 

“Did we not just have sex?” Spock asks back, finding himself in a light, teasing mood. 

Jim rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yes. I have sex.” 

“Ok, and you enjoy it?” Jim asks, his tone a little sharp. Spock nods, both amused and appreciative, and Jim relaxes by degrees. “Ok. I mean, that wouldn’t have been a complete issue for me, but it definitely would have been something to deal with.” 

Spock arches an eyebrow at him. “Really?” he asks, throwing one of Jim’s favorite words back at him. Jim rolls his eyes. “It is not logical to pursue a relationship that does not fulfill your needs, sexual or otherwise.” 

“Well maybe I don’t want to lose you,” Jim says, joking, but the bond betrays him. Spock trails his fingers along Jim’s spine. 

“You would not.” 

Jim raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You think we could go back to being just friends after this if it didn’t work out?” 

“Yes,” Spock says simply, because it is true. “We are both highly intelligent beings that share a strong mental bond, both literally and in terms of the human friendship we share. I do not think that the failure of sexual compatibility between us would result in the loss of the rest of the relationship.” 

Jim studies him in silence for several minutes before nodding. “Friend, brother, lover, right?” 

Spock inclines his head, mirroring him. “Precisely.” 

Jim settles, leaning more firmly into Spock. “Tell me about that, about t’hy’la.” 

Spock tilts his head. “You already saw this in my mind.”

“Maybe I want you hear you explain it,” Jim says, and sling an arm around Spock’s shoulders. “Maybe I also don’t fully understand it.”

Spock looks at him intently. “Don’t you? The bond has been changing since we first melded, but the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed, only strengthened.” 

“Oh, well, good,” Jim remarks casually, and looks away, but Spock can feel the strong emotion under the surface. He answers it, just a simple acknowledgement, and Jim looks back, smiling now. 

“So, you felt me come,” Jim says slowly, his fingers slowly tracing circles on Spock’s skin. 

“Yes.” 

“You felt all my feelings.” 

“At the time yes, but the link will not always be so open.” 

“This is a dangerous game, isn’t it?” Jim asks quietly, a slow smile spreading across his face. “A Vulcan sharing emotions with human.” 

“Once again you equate all aspects for your life with a game,” Spock points out, teasing, but nods. “It can be. Vulcan’s live the way we do for a reason, and I must always be careful.” 

“Because I might corrupt you?” Jim teases him back, but there is also genuine concern. Spock tilts his head, wondering why Jim seems to primally fear this, even beyond his worry for undermining Spock's control, but he does not look for the answer. One day, Jim will tell him. 

“That is not entirely accurate.”

“But not entirely inaccurate,” Jim shoots back, staring at him with an unusually serious expression. 

“Perhaps. I find it unlikely that you will help me become more logical, which is part of the goal of bonds between Vulcans,” Spock says, attempting to reassure Jim and lighten the mood. “Or chastise me when I behave illogically, but I do not think that you will vastly destabilize my control anymore then I will change the fundamentals of your personality. I am no longer a child, and neither are you.” 

Jim hums as he often does to demonstrate that he is listening, but does not respond. Spock takes it as his cue to continue, familiar by now with human mannerisms. 

“Of course, it is not the absence of emotion that is sought after, but the control of it. Many outworlders misunderstand this concept, and many Vulcans willfully misinterpret it.”

That diverts Jim’s full attention. “What do you mean?” 

“I have spent years studying Surak's philosophy and writings in an effort to fully understand my people.” Spock pauses, and considers the rest of his explanation. “In some ways, I sought to be worthy of them by perfecting my knowledge.” 

Jim nods, as though this is a fully reasonable motivation, and not illogical in the slightest. 

Spock inclines his head and continues. “I found that by my interpretation, many have been misrepresented. For the majority of Vulcans, it is the mastery of emotion, not the removal, that is sought. Logic, meditation, bonds, these are things created to facilitate this mastery, to channel it to productive means.” 

Jim’s lips quirk in a repressed smile. “How productive do you think we’ve been today?”

“That depends on our goals. If we sought to strengthen our bond for the logical pursuit of increasing and understanding the logistics of the connection, then we were very productive.” 

“Good to know that’s how you view hide and seek games and sex,” Jim says, and winks. He leans his head back down against the back of the couch, relaxing, arm still slung across Spock’s naked shoulders. Spock allows himself to relax as well, leaning into the contact, feeling the intriguing sensation of Jim mind as it ‘wanders.’ 

Absent thoughts, sometimes fully formed and sometimes not, filter through Jim’s mind. They are interspaced with moments of blankness, vaguely akin to the meditative trance, but short in duration. Images, sounds, interpretations of physical stimuli, all overlapping and oddly connected. Vulcans do not have this sensation, and experiencing it first hand is a novelty. Spock closes his eyes and drifts along with Jim, following his strange non-pattern. He had heard his father discuss the process with his mother, but though he had a familial bond with her, Spock had never- 

Abruptly, Jim sits bolt upright, startling Spock to the point that he physically jolts. Jim scrambles, excited and then guilty when he realizes that he startled him. “Sorry- one sec, I just remembered.” 

He scrambles over to the desk, still fully naked and completely unconcerned about that fact. Spock watches him, staying very still in case Jim performs another erratic behavior. Jim must notice his response because he looks up and smiles sheepishly. “My bad. But,” he holds up a wide envelope. “I have this.” 

“My mother’s letters,” Spock says, redundantly. It is obvious that’s what they are, both from Jim’s reaction and the Starfleet packaging. Jim nods anyway, padding back over to the couch and sitting down. 

“Yeah, apparently they were damaged a bit, but they’re still readable,” Jim says, and hands then to him. 

Spock slides them out of the envelope. Jim’s assessment is correct. Many of them are damaged, but the majority are still whole enough. On all but one Spock can still clearly make out her signature, ‘Your loving mother, Amanda’, and the little sun she always drew next to it, like an icon. He knows she only did it for him. 

Jim is curious, but is trying to shield. He understand this. Spock finds that he wants him to understand even more. “My mother wrote me letters on paper while attended Starfleet because that is what her mother did for her when she was away at boarding school as a child.” 

“Family tradition.” 

Spock nods. “Precisely. She drew the sun because that is what she used to call me. Little sun.” 

“That’s...really nice,” Jim says, his feelings a confused jumble now, stuck between sadness, pity, empathy, happiness. Spock reaches out with his mind, calming, connecting. Jim relaxes, and Spock does the same. 

“What of your possessions?” 

Jim shrugs. “Lost in the fire. I have some more of his old stuff, or my mom does, it’s no big-” 

“No, Jim,” Spock interrupts him. “I grieve with thee. Thank you for retrieving these for me.” 

Jim blinks. “I- ok. Thanks. Also, you’re welcome.” 

Spock nods and looks back down to the letters. He traces one fingertip over the letters of his mother’s name, from A to a. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jim’s finger twitch in response. They are still deeply connected. 

“It would be logical to use this time to practice your shielding,” Spock says, slipping the letters back into their envelope with care and setting them down on the table. 

Jim shrugs and turns to face him fully. “Ok, just let me get dressed, it’s kind of cold in here.” He stands up, jogging to the dresser. Spock watches him with amusement as he pulls out a pair of regulation black pants and slides them on without underwear. Then he freezes. 

“Uh- can I borrow some of your clothes?” Jim asks, clearly embarrassed. Spock nods, fighting to keep his expression more or less composed despite his amusement. Jim shakes his head, laughing to himself, and takes out a shirt. “I didn’t even think. Do you want one?” 

“I know, and yes,” Spock responds, fully controlled now, but the warm quality of affection spreads through him. “I do not mind.” 

“Good, I’m glad,” Jim says, padding back over to the couch and dropping down next to Spock. He hands him the shirt. Spock pulls it over his head and then finds Jim staring at him. “Actually, I want to try something if it’s ok.” 

Curious, Spock nods, and Jim grins. “Can you tell what I’m thinking?” 

Spock tilts his head. If he focuses, he likely could, but on the surface there is only positive feeling. “I cannot.” 

“Great, that’s shielding practice then.” Jim claps his hands together, making a loud sound, and freezes. “Would you ever high five me?” 

“No.” 

Jim waves a hand, overly expressive in his renewed energy and excitement. “Yeah that makes sense. What would that even-”

“Jim.” 

“Right, anyway. Do you think I would be able to initiate a mind meld?” 

Spock blinks. “No.” 

“Why not?” Jim asks, in the same tone of voice he always uses for that particular question. 

Spock leans back, thinking. “I would assume that a human would not have a psionic abilities necessary to initiate such a connection.” 

Jim leans forward, fingers already partially extended. “That doesn’t sound very scientific, and I didn’t mean with anyone, just with you.” 

“I understood. Still, I find it unlikely, but we will not know unless we try,” Spock says, fully intrigued now. He turns himself so that he’s facing Jim as directly as he can on the couch, and Jim does the same. Anticipation builds as Jim raises a hand, and even more so as Spock helps Jim touch the correct points. 

As soon as Jim’s fingers make contact, Spock shivers. The experiment is of interest to him, but Spock also finds that Jim putting his fingers on Spock’s meld points, or giving him Vulcan kisses, or doing anything Vulcan, is extremely gratifying. 

“Ok so, my mind to your mind,” Jim says, very seriously. 

Nothing occurs. 

Jim frowns. “Ok, maybe I wasn’t focusing enough.” 

Spock gives him a long look. “Were you focusing at all?”

“Not really, I was thinking about the words.”

“It is not a magic spell.”

“Then why do you say it?” Jim asks brightly. Then he focuses again, the transition abrupt and interesting. He rolls his shoulders. “Ok. I’ll try again.” 

Spock relaxes his mind, opening himself up to mental contact. Through the bonds he shares with others, he gains increased awareness of their mental and physical states. His father is meditating. His remaining cousin is asleep. His half brother is awake and feeling intense curiosity. Jim is staring at him with narrowed eyes, feeling equal parts determined and ridiculous. 

Jim takes a deep breath, focusing very intently on their bond. “My mind to your mind, my thoughts- holy shit!” 

Spock inhales sharply as their minds briefly collide and then disconnect. He blinks rapidly, confused. Jim pulls away, eyes wide.

“Was that me or you?”

“I do not know,” Spock says honestly. “It may have been. Another possibility is that my mind instinctively reached out to complete the contact.” 

Jim shakes his head from side to side, as though clearing it. “Huh.”

“Indeed.” Spock shifts closer on the couch, bringing their knees into contact. Jim presses back. 

“Maybe we can revisit that later,” Jim says, and abruptly stands up. 

“Later?” Spock looks up at him, confused as he often is by Jim’s behavior. Not all of it has gotten clearer with time, and Spock expects that he will always surprise him. 

Jim grins down at him. “Yeah later, we’re revisiting something else right now. Close your eyes and cover your ears.” 

Spock hesitates only for a moment before complying, making sure his curiosity is plain through the bond. Jim touches back, and then fades, shielding again. Seven seconds pass in near complete stillness and silence. Spock waits, patient where Jim is concerned. Eventually, as always, he is rewarded. 

_You’re it._

Spock stands, letting his hands drop but leaving his eyes closed. Jim is in the room, somewhere. **I do not think so.**

_Yeah but this time I won’t pull any shit._

Spock shakes his head, steps around the table, and sets about finding Jim again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit me at paradiamond.tumblr.com for updates/stuff if you want


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